


Not an advantage.

by Meowzalot



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotions, I suck at tags, M/M, Sherlock AU, Teenlock, Will add as they happen - Freeform, a little bit of not good, dancing sherlock, rugby player John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:40:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2319446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowzalot/pseuds/Meowzalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenlock AU. You got John playing rugby, you got Sherlock doing dance stuff while listening to dubstep violin music, Mrs. Hudson owns a pet shop, and other stuff will happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not an advantage.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Johnlockedness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockedness/gifts).



> Wrote this for Johnlockedness. Was supposed to be a one shot but if you read enough of my stuff/follow my Tumblr you know it rarely turns out I work on one-shots. My mind can't/won't shut off.
> 
> This isn't betaed/Brit-picked. Please do forgive me for that.
> 
> Also, this is the song I pictured Sherlock would be listening to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHjpOzsQ9YI.

Everything hurt. It felt like someone had taken every single one of his bones, tossed them around, and super glued the joints back together before adding his skin and calling it a day. John arched his head back into the water, listening to the other blokes make jackasses of themselves in the locker room.

Each of his mates called out to him but John couldn’t even pretend to be cheerful. Along with a rougher than normal practice the knowledge that in his backpack a failing paper was neatly folded, tucked away behind everything else. How could he have been so stupid? 

The teacher had been sympathetic, saying he’d allow a re-do on the test in a day or two but that it might be best to have another student help him. He even offered to set the whole thing up. Just for John to be back after rugby practice that afternoon.

It had been more than generous for Mr. Lestrade to do something like that. So, despite the ever growing urge to head home and crash John Watson dragged himself back to Bio 201.

The faint sound of violin music playing caught him off guard. It wasn’t just that though. Hesitating John strained his ears.

Dubstep?

“Mr. Lestrade?” He pushed the door open without a second thought, freezing in his tracks when the strangest eyes he could ever recall seeing met his.

The only sound was from the laptop sitting on the counter right behind the other student, and John cleared his throat nervously. 

“John Watson I presume?”

“Huh? Oh, ya, right. Are you the tutor Mr. Lestrade said would be here?”

With an annoyed sigh the boy rolled those blue, or were they hazel, eyes. Without a word he went back to what John assumed was some type of experiment.

After a few minutes of just music John felt the old Watson temper creep up along his spine, causing him to give a loud “Oi!”

When their eyes met this time John was more than a little pleased to see curiosity in the others expression before it closed off.

“I see no point in trying to educate a boy who will only have it knocked out of his skull willingly.”

The pleased feeling was crushed heavily by confusion and then anger. He knew this guy now. Sherlock Holmes. He’d never actually met the bloke but Phil on the team had, said he was a right tosser and now John understood why to some degree.

“So why are you here?” John huffed.

“This room is heavily avoided after classes end. Making it ideal to be away from the others.” Sherlock explained, looking back into the microscope in front of him.

Storming over to the table he dropped his bag none too gently on the table top. Now Sherlock was watching him, head tilted to the side.

“Sentiment.”

“What?” John frowned, pausing in the motion of opening his bag.

Sherlock straightened carefully, tugging the rolled up sleeves on his white button up down. “It’s why you failed. I would have said a girlfriend but you don’t show the usual signs of a relationship gone sour.”

John felt the blood drain from his face when Sherlock ‘hmmed’ softly.

They stood there for a heartbeat of silence before Sherlock simply sat, giving another frustrated sigh when John looked at him dumbly.

“You are here to study, and I am here to offer assistance. A rather grievous waste of time truly.” Sherlock sighed. “After one of those games your kind are so fond of everything I teach you will be simply replaced by nothing.”

John refused to even _think_ about how attractive Sherlock was now. No. This sodding little bastard didn’t deserve that.

It didn’t matter that sparks flew up his spine when their hands accidentally brushed when reaching for the same book. All that mattered was that Sherlock Holmes was an utter cock and John refused to be attracted to someone like him.

~~~

Saturday mornings weren’t meant to be spent running through puddles trying to reach a place just to study. Sagging forward John gripped at his upper thighs, breathing heavily. He’d managed to sleep through his alarm and only woke up when Harry stumbled into the house, which prompted a huge fight between her and their dad.

The irony of two drunks screaming at each other over the others drinking habits wasn’t lost on the bitterly aware John.

After calming both of them down he’d only then managed to slip out of the house, head held high but cheeks tinted red as he caught neighbors peeking out of their windows.

Nosy bloody bastards.

Just telling himself he was rushing to meet Sherlock at the café they’d agreed for a meeting point he ran, trying to tell himself he wasn’t embarrassed to be caught walking out of his own home.

So he’d ran, almost an hour late on their meet-up time and Sherlock still wasn’t here.

“Should have known better.” He grumbled, sitting in a corner so he could watch the door. While waiting he dragged out the books, reading over a few high-lightened parts but none of the words stuck. All he heard was his dad yelling, Harry snapping back, and his mom washing the dishes extra loud as if the clanging of pots and pans would drown the other two out.

“Sentiment is not an advantage.”

Glancing up quickly he frowned at Sherlock, both adoring and dreading that expression that said Sherlock knew everything John was trying to keep hidden.

In all the two days of having Sherlock around it became obviously clear what his mates deemed a cheap trick and/or a freak of nature thing was nothing short of amazing.

Sherlock could observe everything about anyone but John had a feeling it wasn’t completely on purpose. There was nothing wrong with him.

That didn’t mean he liked it when Sherlock deduced him.

“Don’t, Sherlock.”

“There is no point in studying like this if you’re just going to fail again because your sis-“

“Sherlock!” John flushed, eyes darting around the café as his shout drew attention to them. Looking back at Sherlock he noticed something important missing. Sighing softly he felt the paranoia melt into a strange affection. “Books, Sherlock?”

The expression could almost be called haughty, and it made him look like a pouting child.

“Boring. I learned everything I actually needed from them ages ago.”

Of course he had.

John rolled his eyes before looking back at the book, only faintly aware of Sherlock taking a seat across from him. After a few minutes of silence between them John quickly grew bored with the text book, finding the words a little tedious to follow once they blurred together a few times.

“Got a girlfriend?”

Sherlock looked up from his cell phone, one brow raised in confusion. “Not exactly my area.”

“Boyfriend then? Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” He added the last part quickly, licking his lower lip as Sherlock tilted his head.

“I know there isn’t, and no,” Sherlock said, glancing back at his phone. “Sentiment is a distraction.” He repeated.

“You can’t just turn stuff like that off, Sherlock. We’re people. Not-“

“Are you going to study and bore me with your questions or keep on this course of conversation? I’m starting to become bored with it.” Sherlock cut him off, never breaking eye contact with his phone but John watched the full lips grow thin in a tight line.

“Right, sorry.” He murmured, forcing himself to continue reading. An idea started forming before John could actually keep up, and before he knew it the book was slammed shut and Sherlock nearly jumped in surprise. “Right, then. I think we need a day off.”

Sherlock sighed, pulling himself into a standing position and starting to walk off.

“Oi! I didn’t say you could go anywhere!” John said, looping the bag over one shoulder as he followed Sherlock. The taller boy didn’t stop but did slow, allowing John to catch up. Before Sherlock could say anything John grabbed his sleeve, tugging him along quickly. “I think we’re both a little burnt out from studying. Well, I am. You’re most likely just burnt out from deducing everyone by just the socks they’re wearing.” John teased.

Sherlock, for what John assumed was the first time in his bloody life, didn’t say anything. Allowing John to pull him along until they were outside a small shop.

Now John blushed, dropping Sherlocks sleeve as he licked at his lower lip and rubbed the back of his head. Maybe he hadn’t thought this through. Even his own mates didn’t know he came here just to relax a bit.

“A pet shop? Really, John?”

John turned, prepared to defend his manly pride when he noticed Sherlock was actually grinning down at him. Chuckling softly he shrugged, feeling his face grow warmer.

It wasn’t a big place but comfortable and clean. The owner was a nice older woman that doted on each creature in her shop, and John loved it there.

Once inside it was only a matter of minutes before the old woman was there, asking John how he was and who his friend was.

‘Friend’. Could Sherlock really be considered a friend?

John clapped Sherlock on the shoulder cheerfully, feeling the tense muscles relax ever so slightly at the contact.

“Mrs. Hudson, this is Sherlock Holmes.” John said proudly, squeezing Sherlocks shoulder. 

“Must be a dancer! Just look at him!” She said fondly, “My Thomas used to be a dancer. Always such a skinny lot.”

Mrs. Hudson kept rambling even when she turned to pick up one of the puppies out of the pin in the middle of the store.

“You’re a dancer?” John whispered.

Sherlock brushed an unruly curl behind his ear, nodding sharply. “I doubt one of your type would notice but our school has a musical theatre department.”

A wiggling bundle of fur was thrust in his arms without warning, causing John to quickly latch onto the puppy before it fell. Another was shoved into Sherlocks arms and John almost started to instruct Sherlock on how to hold it. Sherlock didn’t seem like the pet owning type.

“Aw, that one likes you already. Figured he would. I have a sixth-sense about these things, you know.” Mrs. Hudson said proudly, “Tea?”

 

They were left to wait as Mrs. Hudson went to make tea but with the distraction of an entire pet shop it didn’t seem so bad.

Kneeling on the floor John let the puppy down, chuckling fondly when the small animal yipped and circled around him playfully. Stealing a peek from the corner of his eye he watched Sherlock, almost stunned at the soft expression on the other boys face.

“You have any pets?” John asked, rubbing the puppies belly as he watched Sherlock sit cross legged to let his own armful of puppy down.

“I had Redbeard.”

John looked over; question half-way out of his mouth when he noticed the almost pained expression on Sherlocks face. Sometimes the kindest thing to do was move onto a different topic.

“I knew our school had a drama program.” He tossed out.

Sherlock looked at him in confusion before the high point of his cheeks turned pink, face softening as he gave a warm laugh.

They sat there laughing together, John trying to ignore the tight sensation in his chest when Sherlock smiled at him.


End file.
